Façade
by lightning bird
Summary: Once upon a time Dexter's brilliance had intimidated her. That was before Blossom realized how fragile he really was beneath the layers of armor he wore and how greatly he needed his protectors, too.
1. Part One: Alone and Lonely

**Façade**

by lightning bird

Disclaimer: Except for the few original characters that work for me, all cartoons, characters, and settings belong to Cartoon Network and their respective creators.

This is a companion story to _Absent_ and _Lie of Omission_, which are follow-up stories to _Taken, _and starts where Chapter Fourteen of that story ends.

**Part One: Alone and Lonely**

He looked away as the elevator door closed behind Ben's green jacket and yet another life line was cut off, if only temporarily. Pursing his lips, Dexter swallowed and winced at the pain the reflex caused. An intense, almost physical sense of loss filled him even though Ben had yet to leave DexLabs property. Without the immediate presence of the older teen – a luxury that Dexter had enjoyed and appreciated for days as he slowly recovered – the world seemed an even lonelier, more menacing place.

A sigh escaped him and he felt his shoulders slump as he lowered his head. He would have liked to walk Ben all the way to the hangar where the KND aircraft – Dexter could not bring himself to call that contraption an airplane – waited to transport them to Banff, Canada. He knew full well he didn't have the strength to make it that far. Already his head was spinning and his legs were trembling with the effort of standing for so long, and he felt well and truly awful. Awful, at least, was an improvement over destroyed, which summed up his physical state last week.

He dreaded returning to the medical unit. They just wanted him to rest and eat and pestered him endlessly with offers of therapy and people he could talk to. He didn't want to do any of those things. He wanted to work. His laboratory was getting put back in order and he badly wanted to be there to supervise the process. He had to figure out exactly how his Fusion copy had burrowed through the bedrock without being noticed until it was too late. He had to figure out why this particular Fusion was capable of speech and independent reasoning and ambition, and the nature of the Infection he had unleashed north of Pittsburgh. But mostly Dexter had to figure out how he was going to banish the nightmares that were plaguing his sleep and clouding each waking moment.

"You can stop hovering, Dearborn," he abruptly said, well aware he was being guarded.

"Sir?" asked the security sergeant, a little nervous in his role of baby sitter. Usually this was Chip Morton's job, but Chip was off world along with Professor Utonium. He stepped out of the shadows where he had been waiting out of earshot, affording his employer and his employer's best friend some privacy. "Can I escort you back to Medical?"

"No, you may not," he snapped, barely able to raise his voice above a grating whisper. "I'm going to my laboratory."

"Sir, Dr. Cardon and Seventy-Seven gave express orders-"

"Who owns and runs this company, Sergeant?"

"You do, sir. But -"

"I'm going to my laboratory."

"Sir, I don't think tha-"

"You're not my father, Dearborn," Dexter hissed savagely, his temper getting the better of him for a moment as the real issue came out full force. He wanted, _needed_ Professor Utonium desperately, but his father was off world helping the Plumbers and there was no telling when he would return. The petit redhead glared up at the former Marine, well aware that he bore more than physical scars from recent events. "Do not try to tell me what to do."

He knew he was being grossly unfair and he didn't care. The sergeant couldn't really defend himself, but then it was not Dearborn's place to argue with him. He tolerated the authority and back-talk of very few people, and one of them had just departed, leaving him feeling bereft and alone all over again.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside before Dearborn could catch up. Closing his eyes, Dexter leaned against the wall, harboring his strength for the walk ahead. He would go down to the laboratory and see how things were progressing. The technicians were working 'round the clock and should have the chemistry lab set up for him. He would start analyzing soil and rock samples to figure out the means of entry into his subterranean kingdom. He needed to know and understand not just how this all happened to him, but why.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Adrian Dearborn sighed as the elevator doors closed. He had served in the Marine Corps long enough to recognize post traumatic stress when he saw it. He took no offense at Dexter's snappishness – his boss was actually a lot calmer and more soft-spoken than Dearborn had expected him to be, given past conduct – but that did not mean that he could allow the owner of DexCorp International to go wandering about unescorted, especially since it was evident that he was not in any condition to be anywhere but back in bed. Besides, every doctor in the place had issued orders that he was not allowed back in his laboratory for another week at least.

As the one in charge of security in Morton's absence Dearborn had a direct tie-in with Computress, and now that she was mostly back in working order he activated his comm unit.

"Computress, track Dexter. He's heading for his lab. Alert security in the main entrance and have someone meet him at the elevators. I don't care how much he yells." He didn't wait for the elevator to return, but headed for the stairs in pursuit of his boss. It was too bad the Tennyson kid had to leave. He had been the only thing grounding Dexter and keeping the security and medical staffs sane.

Computress' voice was pitched for calmness. "Of course, Sergeant."

"Can you contact his sisters for me?"

"DeeDee or the Powerpuff Girls?"

"The Powerpuffs. They're on site."

On site and hopefully able to talk some sense into their brother the genius. Dearborn lifted his hand and a comm cube appeared before him, keeping track with his long strides as he hurried down the stairs. A few moments later an image of a drowsy Blossom was blinking at him.

_"Sergeant?"_ she asked with a voice heavy with sleep. Her hair was a little disheveled and her bow was askew.

"Sorry to wake you, miss. It's your brother."

She dragged herself toward alertness. _"He okay?"_

"He just saw Tennyson off and now he wants to go to his lab. He's pretty distraught and I'm afraid even just being up so long is pushing himself too far."

She nodded, well aware of the orders from the doctors and her older brother's present condition and state of mind. He was a stubborn, intractable little thing when he got his Irish up, and Ben's departure was more than enough to plunge him into a workaholic frenzy. It wasn't just a matter of he couldn't stop working, but Dexter didn't know how. He would go until he literally collapsed, and without their father or Mr. Green or Ben here to put the brakes on, it fell to the rest of the family to watch for him since he clearly wouldn't watch out for himself.

_"Where is he?"_

"Heading for the main entrance."

_"I'll meet you there."_

"Thank you."

Dearborn picked up speed. Morton was so much better at dealing with Dexter than he was. Chip couldn't get back soon enough.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

This was a mistake and he knew it, but his own mulish nature denied him the luxury of backing down, accepting fate, and returning to Medical. The place held too many memories of waking up to darkness and fear and the thought of being there without Ben close by was daunting.

He rubbed his aching head and let out a little groan even as the elevator slowed down and stopped. Standing up straight, he braced himself, knowing there was a chance he'd run into some Kids Next Door or fighters for Earth's Combined Forces in the main lobby for his corporate headquarters. The proposition did not please him in the least, but this was the fastest route to the primary elevators that would allow him access to his laboratory. Steeling himself against the possibility of being exposed to strangers (never an easy thing for him handle, especially when he was alone), he expected DexLabs Security to be waiting for him. He did not expect his sister.

Blossom was waiting for him right outside the elevator doors. She was so wonderfully smart and pretty and she stood there patiently, ready for a battle. Dexter knew there was no way he could win against her, not in his present state. He stepped out of the elevator and faced her. Dearborn was hanging back at a discreet distance, watching like a hawk and ready to pounce if anyone dared approach as brother and sister hashed it out.

"Dexter, you shouldn't be up," Blossom said softly, closing the distance between them so he could hear her. His hearing was only partially recovered, and she did not want to broadcast their conversation.

With her as his shield he slumped the least bit. Quietly he defended, "I had to see Ben off."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

That Blossom understood entirely. Ben was Dexter's best friend and a very good influence. She had never known Dexter to act more like the teenager he was than around Ben Tennyson, and she knew the older boy was responsible not just for time and again saving Dexter from his Fusion dopplegangers, but for keeping him from giving in to despair as he slowly recovered his strength and spirits. She put her hand on his narrow shoulder. Despite the fact that Dexter was technically five years older than Blossom (though for all intents and purposes he was a mere two months older, seeing as how the Powerpuff Girls had come into the world at five years old), she stood much taller and was maturing at an astounding pace. That stood her in good stead at this moment, as did the sterling example set by her father when dealing with this most difficult and exceptional of geniuses. Once upon a time his brilliance had intimidated her. That was before she realized how fragile he really was beneath the layers of armor he wore and how greatly he needed his protectors, too. It was a role she gladly embraced for this, her brother. They weren't related by blood. They didn't need to be. The bond went so much deeper than that.

"That's good. Has his ship left?"

She caught him a little off guard, which was always advantageous. Dexter hesitated, surprised to have her support, and then nodded.

"Then you need to go get some rest."

Blue eyes cast her a stony look. The whites of his eyes were still mostly red from broken blood vessels, giving him a startling appearance. "I'm not going back to Medical."

"You can't sleep?" she asked softly.

He shook his head, lowering his gaze. Admitting to nightmares was not an easy thing, especially when they were so horrifyingly vivid as to put him back in his Fusion double's clutches. The memory of torture was overwhelming to his waking and sleeping mind, and the faint sounds his damaged ears could pick up in the medical wing of DexLabs were too close to the sounds he'd heard in the abandoned steel mill for him to ever rest quietly without a constant, trusted guardian close at hand.

She took his gloved hand in hers and leaned in so that her lips were right at his ear. "You don't have to go back to Medical, then. Come home," she said. "We'll stay with you. We won't leave you alone. The doctors can come to you." A small smile lit her pretty face. "Einstein misses you. He's looking for you all the time. We miss you too."

There was a pleading look in her pink eyes. She could not begin to tell him how terrified she and her sisters had been, how helpless they had felt when he had been taken right out of this, the home he had made for them all. She and Bubbles had envied Buttercup as much as they had felt for her when Ben asked her along on the rescue mission to get Dexter back. They couldn't all go, that they knew, and Blossom was glad that it had been Buttercup. Of the three Powerpuff Girls, Buttercup had appointed herself Dexter's foremost champion and foil. He had no idea of how completely shaken the toughest of his sisters had been once the rescue team got back from Pennsylvania. The thought of losing one they held so dear was terrifying, and it had taken every bit of self control that they possessed to remain professional in face of this situation. It wasn't until they had been together again that the three girls had broken down, each in her way, over the torture that had been inflicted upon their brother. Though he was home, the threat of losing him still lingered, and the fear, while lessened, remained. Dexter was vulnerable in so many ways, and Blossom desperately wished their father was here. The Professor would know what to do to fix this. He always did.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Please?" pleaded Blossom, her eyes bright and eager.

This offer of an honorable surrender was more than Dexter could refuse. At least she let him lose one his own terms. Being back in the family's living quarters was a viable solution and he wondered why he hadn't thought if it himself. His emotions – so close to the surface and out of control - seemed to be tripping him up at every turn. He slowly nodded, his exhaustion making itself known. He put his free hand to his head, a rush of dizziness hitting him.

"Come with me," Blossom said, holding him firmly still. She carefully turned him, guiding him back into the elevator. Dearborn followed and Dexter vaguely heard the security sergeant talking to Computress to keep the elevator shafts clear between here and their quarters.

Dexter leaned heavily (for him) on Blossom, knowing she could support him with ease and knowing she didn't mind. She swapped hands in order to reach around his waist and hold him up in a grip that was at once gentle and firm. She was so much like her father - more so than her sisters and far more than she realized. The thought comforted him greatly.

Later, he could recall very little of the walk to the family's suite. Most of what he remembered centered on Blossom's patience with his slow steps and his determination to make it there under his own power. At one point he lost all equilibrium and stumbled. Powerful arms caught him. She must have carried him. She definitely kept him from falling. He remembered breathing in the scent of the shampoo she used. Smell was the only sense left to him that he could rely on fully. Blossom's hair smelled of honeysuckle.

He must have closed his eyes because the next thing he knew he was being gently lowered and his feet touched the floor of their suite here in DexLabs. He couldn't stand very well, so Blossom kept her hold on his waist. Straightening his glasses as he looked up, he saw his other sisters approaching. They were smiling and happy to see him, giving him a rare and precious sense of belonging. Buttercup was talking to them though he couldn't really hear her, and Bubbles was carrying Einstein. He stroked his cat's head, glad to see his pet again even though he lacked the strength to hold him. He could feel the cat purring through his gloves, though there was little chance of him hearing it. A sense of content, of security enfolded him. Perhaps he could sleep. Perhaps the nightmares would be held at bay now that he was home.


	2. Part Two: Surrender

**Part Two: Surrender**

_He learned very quickly that anticipation was almost as bad as the actual torture. Pain was coming, but when and how and from where he could not say until it happened. Would his mind be torn apart again by the probes? Would the air pressure increase or decrease until he could no longer breathe and blood gushed from his nose and ears? Or would his captor lean over him in perverse fascination as a Fusion tried to grasp what being human really meant? What love meant? Somehow the Fusion's cold touch was so much worse than the pain he inflicted. His strength was inhuman, his curiosity was warped, his ignorance was complete, and Dexter was helpless before him._

_A cool, oily hand beneath his chin, lifting his head so he would be forced to face this creature. In his dream he could see with absolute clarity even though in reality he had not worn his glasses, and the sight horrified him. His own face in shades of green and red gazed back at him with harsh intensity from just inches away. _

"_Tell me about the Omnitrix."_

"_No."_

_The doppleganger's shift altered and with the back of his hand he brushed Dexter's cheek in a caress that would have been tender had it come from anyone who knew the least thing about tenderness. This thing was simply imitating what it had seen DeeDee do. "Tell me about love."_

"_You cannot understand it."_

"_Teach me, then."_

_He put his hand up, trying to push the Fusion away, but it was too strong. It seized his wrist and yanked him forward into-_

He woke with a gasp, struggling with the covers as he tried to back away. He bumped into the headboard, which was enough to jolt him back to wakefulness. Panting heavily, he looked around. He was in his own bedroom. Afternoon light spilled in through the open door leading to the hall. Einstein stood on the blankets, roused by the motions and now stretching luxuriously. Dexter kept still, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Dexter?"

A shadow fell across the door as Buttercup poked her head in. She spoke more, but he couldn't hear her and shook his head. She came into the room and sat on the bed, looking at him with worried green eyes. When she spoke, she raised her voice and made sure to address him directly.

"You okay? Was it a nightmare? I heard you yell."

Rubbing his head, he nodded. His throat and head were aching and he shied away when he felt the scabby burns on his temples. Buttercup watched in sympathy, reaching over to the bed stand to hand him his glasses - the same ones that had saved his life more than a week ago.

"Want to get up for a while? Come sit with me? It's a nice day out and Bubbles will be back in a little while. Want something to eat?"

The questions came in a rush, and finally he simply nodded again.

She smiled and held out her hands to him. "Come on."

The day was hot and the doors to the garden were open to allow a slow breeze to move through the suite. He was content to sit inside and curl up on the loveseat. Einstein, an expert on relaxing, curled up with him and fell asleep with enviable speed. Buttercup brought some bowls of soup and joined him as he slowly ate. Swallowing was difficult for him and he struggled to eat the simple meal. His throat ached and his gums were sore to the point where he could not chew. Despite the heat of the day he welcomed the throw she spread over him as he settled down to sleep again, exhausted.

"Dexter? I need you to wake up," said a man's voice.

For a moment he hoped, forcing himself to wakefulness, but it was not the Professor. He blinked up at Dr. Cardon, confused by his worried look. The world grew blurry as the doctor gently removed Dexter's glasses and set them aside.

"Shift over. Lean back. That's it. Keep still."

He felt remarkably hot and heavy, his limbs somehow weaker than when he'd come here. He let the gray-haired man adjust him, helping him to sit up and bracing his head against the seat cushions. "Whu's . . ."

"No talking until I say so, sir. Quiet, now."

"Is he all right?" asked Bubbles anxiously.

"He will be."

He frowned, trying to look around until Cardon pointed imperiously for him to be still. Dexter leaned back, and then looked down. To his shock, the front of his t-shirt was bloody. He gaped, reaching up to touch his face, but the doctor stopped him.

"Sit still. You've had another nosebleed," said Cardon, coming at him with a cloth. "Don't worry. It's just blood. You've got plenty more where that came from. Now stop moving and let me check you."

"I'm not going back to Medical," he insisted, his voice slurred.

"What part of 'no talking' didn't you get? Quiet!"

A tap atop his head from Blossom where she stood behind the sofa told him to obey. He gripped the blanket across his lap as he submitted to the doctor's ministrations. Now that he was aware of it, his nose was rather sore and he could taste blood. Quickly and gently, Cardon cleaned the blood away, asking Bubbles to fetch a glass of water and a bowl so Dexter could rinse out his mouth. The water he spat into the bowl was faintly pink.

"Here," Buttercup said, alighting beside her sisters. In her hands she held fresh clothes for Dexter, one of her old green sweat suits that he was so fond of stealing.

Taking the clothes with a nod of thanks, Cardon addressed all four children. "Okay, boss, you and your sisters listen up. No salt. No aspirin. No soda. No caffeine. Nothing that is going to change your blood pressure. I'm going to talk to Chef Daal and come up with a menu for you until you're better. No wearing of glasses. Close all the windows. I want the air conditioner on and the humidity cranked up by thirty percent. I'll have maintenance check and clean the ducts and air filters. No flowers, no perfume, nothing smelly near him, and have Einstein bathed and groomed tomorrow, and keep him brushed. If you sneeze, Dexter, you're back in Medical." As he spoke he pulled out a small spray bottle from the bag at his side that Dexter recognized with a grimace. "Yeah, this stuff again. Head back and hold still."

He closed his eyes and gripped the blanket tighter as the cold, smelly liquid was sprayed up his nose. Cardon handed him a tissue and he held in against his nose as he forced himself not to move.

"What's that?" asked Buttercup, intrigued.

"Blood coagulant. Okay, Dexter, head down, hold your nose."

His head ached in every way, but he obeyed. Cardon put his hand on Dexter's shoulder.

"Keep the walking around to a minimum. You're to stand only when necessary. I know you'll be bored silly, but this is what will keep you from being bored silly over in Medical. If you have the least discomfort, we need to know immediately. Got it?"

"Mmm," he grunted.

"Seventy-Seven and I will be around every day as often as we feel like it to check. Girls, he's not to be left alone in here at all."

"We're working out a schedule between us and DeeDee," assured Blossom. "We'll call Medical if we need help."

Cardon nodded, satisfied. DeeDee was empty-headed, but her concern for her little brother was genuine and she had been visiting him daily and sitting with him even when he slept. She had bounced back with astonishing ease from being kidnapped by her brother's Fusion, but then she had not been made to endure the physical trauma that Dexter had.

"Have you been in contact with your father?"

When there was no immediate answer, Dexter looked up in surprise. Without his glasses on he could barely make out the glances the Powerpuff Girls exchanged, but the lack of an answer was like a punch in the stomach.

"Um . . . we haven't been able to reach him," Bubbles finally provided. "Max says there's some sort of interference out in space. We've recorded messages for him, but . . ." She shrugged helplessly.

Cardon frowned, concerned by this news. "What about General Shaan?"

"Mandy's going to get hold of him if we don't hear from the Professor by Friday," said Blossom.

Mastering his displeasure at this news, the doctor nodded. "All right." He returned his attention to his patient. "Any pain? Don't lie."

Crushed by the news that Utonium had not yet been told what had happened, Dexter did not respond.

"Dexter?"

His father didn't _know_? He wasn't coming back? How long had it been? He had no idea. What was today? He'd thought . . .

"Dexter!"

Cardon's concern cut through his shock. He raised his hand, instinct and a need for comfort moving him to reach for the hand on his shoulder. Then he drew a deep breath, mastering himself, and lowered his arm again. Over his head, his sisters and his doctor looked at one another with worried expressions as Dexter clamped down on his emotions. It wasn't healthy, but if it was what he felt he needed to do right now, Cardon would not argue. He was under enough strain as it was right now.

"Look up at me."

He hoped his bloodshot eyes hid the fact that he was on the verge of tears. Not fooled for an instant, Cardon studied him intently, bending to flash a light up his nose.

"Good. The bleeding's stopped. Don't blow your nose. What hurts? Head? Ears? Throat? Nose?"

He nodded.

"Joints? Teeth? Any nausea?"

"Mmm," he agreed. "Everything."

"All right. Let's get you changed and washed up and then I'll give you something for the pain. Dinner will be waiting when you wake up later."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_The mechs stood eight feet tall, animated conglomerates of shop machines and Fusion Matter. They were mute, unfeeling, and could do nothing but obey. Beside them stomped a slightly smaller mech, equally clumsy and dangerous, and included in its construction was an old computer, allowing it to speak._

_"You. Dexter. You will accompany us. Resist and the female will be killed."_

_He tried to stand but his legs would not support him. Desperately he struggled to rise but it was as if the floor was holding onto him. He had no strength. He couldn't move. He tried to crawl, to reach them, but some force held him back._

"_Dexter!" begged DeeDee, staring down the barrels of the laser guns leveled at her head. "Dexter, please!"_

_The impatient Fusion Mechs ignored his efforts. Dexter panicked, screaming as he reached out. "I'm trying! I'm – no! No! Don't! DeeDee! Dee-"_

"Dexter! Wake up, sleepy boo!"

A hoarse shout of fear escaped him. Dexter opened his eyes to find his older sister grinning at him in clueless delight. He stared, hardly able to believe it had been a nightmare, and eventually DeeDee realized what must have happened. Immediately she swept down to sit on his bed and wrapped her scrawny arms around him, holding him tightly.

"Nightmare?" she asked.

He nodded, grateful for her hold on him. Slowly she began to rock back and forth, stroking his hair as she tried to soothe his fears.

"Which one was it? The one where your eardrums burst?"

He shuddered, sorry she had mentioned that moment, and whispered, "No. Mechs."

"The one where it's dragging you through the plant?"

He wished she would stop that. "No."

"Ohh," she breathed, knowing which nightmare it had to be. She hoped she had woken him before she could be killed by the Mechs. "I'm okay. I'm right here. Hey, do you want me to call Mom and Dad?"

A chill ran through him, and as firmly as he could manage with almost no voice, he insisted, _"No."_

"Okay."

He sighed, content to be held, and DeeDee smiled as she comforted the person she loved best. Strangely, they had become closer after Dexter had been made Professor Utonium's ward and he had gone to live in Townsville. DeeDee had missed him terribly even though she knew the move was for the best. As close as he had grown to her, though, he had grown distant from their parents. Few people knew that DexLabs owned the company his father worked for, and a branch had been opened in Colorado specifically to transfer his father there and get him out of Dexter's hair.

"Has . . . ?" He was afraid to ask. For the last two days the answer had always been in the negative. "Has the Professor called?"

He knew he hadn't. The girls would have gotten him up immediately.

"I'm sorry. No."

"I just . . . I just want to sleep and not dream," he whispered. He looked up at her. "Have you had nightmares about what happened?"

She squirmed, a little uncomfortable. "Um . . . no."

He had done everything he could to spare her when they had been prisoners of the Fusion. It was satisfying to know he had succeeded. With a little nod he rested his head against her again and closed his eyes. "Good."


	3. Part Three: Floodgates

**Part Three: Floodgates**

"And the reason you're not eating is . . . what, exactly?"

A long, quiet sigh. "I'm not hungry."

John Cardon sighed as well, recognizing the symptom for what it was: depression. Professor Utonium had been the first to recognize the condition in Dexter back when he was eleven, and as far as they could figure he had been subject to fits and periods of depression ranging from mild to severe all his life. His parents were the sort to dismiss the problem in children entirely and thus he had gone undiagnosed and untreated until he became Utonium's ward. Luckily it had been a long while since this form of dejection had surfaced, but given recent events, it wasn't in the least surprising.

Seating himself beside his young employer, Cardon took a good look at the boy. Like most redheads he was naturally fair-skinned, but being indoors most of the time and his injuries had left him looking waxy and washed out.

"I know you're not hungry," the doctor said quietly, knowing that patience was called for right now regardless of how his patient reacted. Some people ate when depressed, which in Dexter's case would have been a small blessing, but he tended to lose his appetite along with his energy. "But you have to try to eat something. You won't get better unless you do, Dexter. Have you been sleeping?"

He shook his head. "I get nightmares."

"That's understandable," Cardon replied, thinking Dexter looked exhausted. Another symptom: he slept poorly when anxious or upset. The kid was burning himself out at an alarming rate and if it didn't stop soon – meaning if Utonium didn't get here within the next few days – he was going to collapse and end up right back where he didn't want to be: Medical. Normally he would have prescribed a sleeping aid, but right now Dexter was on pain killers and other medications and additional drugs could interfere with what was built up in his system already. "Have you tried relaxation techniques?"

Cardon knew that when DexLabs was first getting started (and already growing at an alarming rate) that Dexter had been anxious to the point of hysterical, unable to keep still or sleep or eat or calm down even with Utonium's constant presence. Before Dexter made himself sick, Utonium had brought him to an expert to teach him how to relax both mentally and physically. The difference in the boy was almost instantaneous, and the Professor has stated more than once that he was sure he had averted an ulcer.

With a weary nod, Dexter whispered, "I try but . . . I can't stop thinking what happened . . . what might have happened. Relaxing doesn't stop the nightmares. I miss Ben very much. I want my father."

This was a huge confession from someone who had more self-control than was right and who tended to mask his emotions completely. Cardon was not unaware of the degree of confidence being shared. Of Tennyson he could give no news, but as for the Professor . . .

"Mandy spoke with General Shaan and your father. He knows what happened and he's on his way back."

"Yes. Mandy came with Seventy-Seven earlier and told me and Bubbles. They don't know when he'll be back."

"But he's on his way." As he spoke the doctor pulled the covers close and warm over the boy. "The cafeteria has cream of broccoli soup today. Can I get you some?"

Not really interested but well aware of the fact that Cardon was not going to leave until he consumed something, Dexter nodded.

"I'll send down for a bowl. In the meantime, you rest."

Rest. If only he could remember how.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Try and stop me now."_

_He could not. He was helpless. A thing. A toy. An experiment for a creature not even alive, a being without kindness, without any concept of gentleness. There was nowhere for him to go. There was no escape from those eyes, that hold, that touch . . . so cold against his lips-_

_"Is this love not love, Dexter?"_

"NO!" he screamed, twisting away. He fell, landing heavily in a tangle of blankets. "No! Get away from me!"

"Dexter!"

He struggled against the hands trying to steady him before he had the least idea of who it was. Blossom let him fight, only going so far as to keep him from hurting himself since against her he stood no chance at all.

"Unhand me!"

"Dexter! Dexter, it's me, Blossom!"

He pressed himself hard against the bed, looking about wildly. "I can't see!"

"Yes, you can," she answered calmly, holding his arms. "You're not awake. You were having a nightmare. Dexter, look at me. Wake up. I'm right here. You're safe."

He saw her, focused on her blurry face. His sister was frightened and worried and he was the cause of that. Something within snapped. He couldn't stop the sobs that began to wrack his body as his resistance finally crumbled and all the pain and fear and loneliness overwhelmed his control. She sat beside him and pulled him into her arms, untangling the blankets holding him and slowly rocking side to side as he gave in to his emotions. She closed her eyes as he sobbed into her shoulder, looking up only when Buttercup and Bubbles came zooming into the bedroom from downstairs.

"Bloss- what?" stammered Buttercup, realizing what must have happened an instant later.

"Oh . . ." breathed Bubbles, pressing her hand to her mouth.

"It's about time," muttered the dark-haired girl as she crossed her arms and scowled.

"Buttercup!" Bubbles hissed, scandalized.

"What? He needs a good cry."

"Shh," ordered Blossom, giving them both a significant look. She stroked Dexter's hair and held him tighter as the blue and green Powerpuffs fell silent.

For all her blunt delivery, though, Buttercup was right. Since Ben had left DexLabs, Dexter had clamped down on his emotions, hiding behind that stoic mask he always wore. Well, there were cracks in his armor and all three girls knew that only one person could set everything aright. They all loved the Professor dearly, they respected and obeyed him and trusted him absolutely. As they matured the Powerpuff Girls were slowly finding independence and individuality, though they were still a team and would always be close to their father and acquired brother. Dexter on the other hand did the opposite and grew closer and more dependent upon Utonium. Granted his was an unusual case, being the owner of an international corporation and one of the leaders of the war against Planet Fusion, but for Dexter there was no getting enough of the Professor's guidance and love. He had spent the first eleven years of his life starved for attention and affection from his parents, and his new family was trying hard to make up for the loss.

Eleven unhappy years, though, had taught Dexter to hide his feelings and reactions and it was only with the utmost difficulty - and usually under the most extreme situations - that he would give in and express what he was truly feeling. He had gotten much better over the last three years. Ben, who was so free and easy with his feelings, had helped tremendously - far more than either boy realized. But now the floodgates of emotion had been thrown wide and there was no stopping this torrent of weeping. Blossom grieved for all he had endured at the hands of his Fusion double, but she was equally glad that Dexter was finally reacting to what had happened. Seventy-Seven and Dr. Cardon had warned them to expect something like this, and in her heart Blossom was grateful that Dexter trusted them, trusted _her_ enough to allow her to hold and reassure him as he broke down.

Sudden weight and warmth pressed against her arm and side as Bubbles sat on the floor and leaned in close. Buttercup joined her on Blossom's other side, wrapping her arms around brother and sister both. Bubbles imitated the gesture, and they clung to one another tightly, holding on until the crisis passed and Dexter's sobs slowly calmed and they were all drained, waiting to be refilled.

"Let's put him in the Professor's bed," whispered Buttercup. "I bet he'll sleep better there."

Bubbles nodded and hummed her agreement. Blossom kept still, suddenly reluctant to relinquish her hold on Dexter. She had hugged Dexter many times in the past and held him when he needed assurance or bolstering, but this was different. He was leaning against her still, not asleep but not withdrawing, and she did not want to lose the contact. It was a rare and precious moment in a time of need and it was hers and her brother's. She shared everything with her sisters – this was something she wanted to keep for herself.

"Give me a minute," said Blossom. "I'll bring him in."

Her sisters left to fuss over the new sleeping arrangements, leaving them alone for a few minutes. Blossom carefully sat Dexter upright, and some motherly instinct in her made her reach up and brush the hair out of his eyes. He looked so pale and thin and weary that he broke her heart.

"Are you okay?"

For a long, quiet moment Dexter gazed at her. Finally he lowered his head and softly said, "Not really. Not now. But I will be."

It was such a typical answer for him that she found herself smiling even though she felt on the verge of tears. It had seemed so strange to have a brother when the Professor had been made Dexter's guardian, but now it would be stranger still not to have this fiery little dynamo as part of their family. She loved him dearly, and for all his eccentricities she could not imagine a better brother in the whole world. Giving in to impulse, she pulled him close for a hug that she needed as much as he did.

"Thank you, Blossom," he whispered hoarsely.

"Thanks for letting me help," she softly replied, squeezing him a bit tighter before releasing him. "Think you'll be able to settle down better in the Professor's bed?"

He considered, wishing that idea occurred to him before, and nodded his approval.

"Want me to carry you?"

"Noooo," he muttered, sounding supremely childish.

"Buttercup will be here with you tonight," Blossom said, rising into the air and carefully setting him on his feet, keeping a steadying hand on his back. "Bubbles and I will be home after we patrol."

He nodded, and she knew he was as satisfied as he could be. She only wished she could do more.


	4. Epilogue: First Light

**Epilogue: First Light**

He awoke to early morning twilight filling the room, a gentle gray light that cast no shadows. For the first time in two weeks he had slept undisturbed the night through. Dexter blinked and tried to focus his eyes, but it was hopeless. Luckily his sisters were color-coded, so he could tell that Bubbles lay on the opposite side of the bed and Blossom was stretched across the foot of the bed and Buttercup sprawled half-on, half-off the loveseat over by the wardrobe.

Exhaustion still had him in its grip, and his throat and ears ached after so long without any pain killers, but there was no way he was going to move yet. He could feel his body's need for more rest and recovery time, but waking up was different this time. The melancholy mood that had settled in upon him, while not entirely dissipated, had changed. It had lessened to something manageable, a lingering sadness and not the hopeless despair that had been consuming him since Ben had left for Canada.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder, the source of this newfound content. Not even Ben was as expert as the Professor at keeping the nightmares at bay. He sat between Dexter and Bubbles, leaning against the headboard and propped up by numerous pillows. The whole family had crowded onto the bed and talked far into the night – far later than Dexter had managed to stay awake, he was sure. For some reason he was reminded of the times when he was very little and frightened by thunder. He used to sneak into DeeDee's bed and she would always hold him and tell him silly stories to distract him. It had never occurred to Dexter to go to his parents' room for comfort. It simply wasn't there. Not for him, anyway.

He couldn't imagine his father sitting up with him all night as the Professor had, or even wanting the steady physical contact Utonium offered. It was a simple gesture, a hand resting on his shoulder, and he could not picture his father or mother doing it. His parents had only wanted him on their terms. Patrick Utonium didn't just want him as part of his family, but he needed Dexter almost as much as Dexter needed him.

What would life have been like if his parents had loved him and related to him? He couldn't imagine it because those people would not be _his _parents. Would he even be the genius he was, in that case? Would he have the fits of anger and depression that drove him to such lengths? Would they allow him to work for days on end when the drive took him to create? Would he have DexLabs? Would he even know the Powerpuff Girls? The Professor? The Plumbers? _Ben?_

Would he have built such high walls against the whole world? Would he have needed to?

He abandoned the exercise as useless and annoying. There was no way of knowing what might have been and no point in wondering. The emptiness of his past was gone. Banished. Since meeting the Utoniums his life had been filled to overflowing. He would not trade a moment of this life for anything – every tear and smile was worth the price. Even the sorrow was precious, because it was his and it was so much better than the bleak ignorance he had known because now he had people to share in his life.

Shifting closer, Dexter rested his head against the Professor's leg, letting his breath out in a long sigh as he closed his eyes. He felt sleep steal upon him, a welcome sense of weightlessness. The hand left his shoulder to pull the blankets up close and warm over his back and neck before resting lightly on his hair.

_I'm right here_, the Professor seemed to be saying, a renewal of the promise made last night. _I won't leave you._

All was safe. All was well. His father was home and right at his side.

Sleep quickly claimed him, and he didn't dream.

_- Fin -_


End file.
